She manages a terse smile in his direction. She is relieved, she is, but there's a part of her that couldn't help wondering what would happen if Ishiah had been wrong and it had been permanent. She's not even sure what she is to him and that had never been more clear than when Cal, without his memory, demanded it of her. "You weren't that much of a dick, either," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

She hitches her things tighter to her body. It's not much -- her apron, a book for her break, and some of the weapons she inevitably arms herself with before every shift. "Besides, I know what it's like to lose my memory, here. I wanted the company after."